


Lies #1: Panic

by RiverRaySong



Series: Lies [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anthropophobia, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Brutal Murder, Gen, Gore, Horror, Mentions Of Schizophrenia, Murder, Panic Attacks, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Psychological Horror, Serial Killers, Virgil is protective of children, implied/mentions of rape, it just says it happens and then it moves on, it's not described though, more specifically a certain child named Dante, so don't worry about it, srsly tho that serial killer do be unhinged, things are a little confusing, you'll know everything in time though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverRaySong/pseuds/RiverRaySong
Summary: ~A Sanders Sides horror fanfic~ Virgil lives alone in Brooklyn, almost never leaving his apartment. After venturing out to an art exhibit, Virgil finds himself stuck inside the building with some tourists and a serial killer.
Series: Lies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787554
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

This fanfic contains disturbing topics. If any of the following warnings specify one of your triggers, do not read. Reader discretion advised.

TW: Gore, implied/mentions of rape, panic attacks, mentions of abuse, serious mental disorders, small usage of uncensored swearing, and murder.

This fanfic is on the shorter side, being 19,251 words. Do not turn away because of this, it is still very descriptive and well written.

This fanfic is the first in a planned series and is centered on Virgil Sanders. The following books will each be centered on a different side. Also note that they will be going backwards in chronological order. The order of when the books take place is this: #4, #3, #2, #1, #5. Keep this in mind when future books are published.

That is all. Enjoy this fanfic.

********************

On a dark, cloudy October day in Brooklyn, New York City, not many people were out and about in the city. The weather was slightly chilly and gray, the sun covered by clouds and smog. In the depths of the suburban life, in a small apartment, there lived a 22-year-old man by the name of Virgil Sanders.

His last name had not always been Sanders, of course. The memories his old name brought him had made him change it the moment he was eighteen and had enough money to pay for all the bills. This had only been two years before, once he had secured his stay-at-home job as a digital artist. Lots of people commissioned pieces from him, as he was very good. He did not think that was true and did not trust their opinions about it. In fact, he did not trust anybody’s opinions about anything, nor did he trust the actual people. There was not a single soul in the world that he trusted, not even himself. Everyone was his enemy; everyone was someone to be feared.

Where the name had come from, he did not know, nor when he had ever heard of such a name in the first place. Of course, there was Bernie Sanders, but Virgil did not keep up with politics and would never want to be specifically named after a politician. He didn’t even particularly like the name. It had simply been waiting in the back of his mind. Before changing his name, he had never made a list of names to change it to. He just knew he wanted to change it. And when the question came up- “what name would you like to have now?”- he had not had a single doubt or regret when writing “Sanders”. It had come naturally, as if something inside him always knew his name was to be this. It was as if fate had intervened. He did not inquire himself about it then, and he never had up to the present day. It was simply his name. _Virgil Sanders._ When he would say it, he would draw out the two ‘s’es like a snake. It was not a very Virgil thing to do, but he did it none the less, and nobody asked about it.

The dim lights flickered above him. Virgil looked up at them cautiously, almost expecting them to explode and send glass raining down upon his head. They did not. The bulbs would sputter every now and then, but the power had never fully gone out. It was inanimate objects like these that Virgil put his trust in. Unlike people, they were usually predictable and accomplished their purposes quite well. Unlike people, you could replace the object once it was broken. You could not, however, replace broken people.

He was sitting on his bed, in his bedroom, doodling on a sketchbook. Drawing digitally was his job, but he also liked traditional artwork. It was harder to do, but it felt a lot more rewarding when finished. The picture he was currently making was of a Labrador; he had seen one while at the grocery store earlier that morning. It was all in pencil, as he was not planning on inking or coloring it.

The phone beside him buzzed with a notification from Tumblr. Virgil picked it up and checked it. Someone had commissioned him to draw a still-life bowl of fruit. Amateur. He sighed and put his sketchbook aside. _I’ll start on it after getting some toast._ If there was one thing he liked more than art, it was food.

Standing up, Virgil left his dark bedroom and went down the hall to the kitchen. The fridge was mostly empty, but it had some bread, jam, eggs, tortillas, and cheese. He had a couple pizzas in the freezer for dinner if he wanted, but for now he just grabbed the bread and got the peanut butter from the cupboard. A deafening silence filled his apartment as he put a slice of bread in the toaster and leaned against the counter, waiting. This was how he spent most of his life; quiet and alone. It suited him just fine; he preferred it much over having to live with someone else. He’d spent enough of his life living with strangers he trusted no more than one would expect the Earth to be flat.

The toast popped up with a _tsh!_ and he flinched in surprise. After spreading peanut butter across it and taking a plate from the stack on the counter, he returned to his room to start on the commission. Dialing the lights’ brightness up, Virgil turned on his drawing tablet and began to work. This was what his days mostly consisted of. He only went out every couple of weeks to buy art supplies and food. It was dangerous out in the city; he knew that better than anyone. Anyone could be wishing you ill, or wishing you theirs. Every person had their own agenda, and it was best not to get in the way of it.

Unfortunately, for some reason, Virgil was having a hard time getting the picture to look right. He was not in the right mindset for drawing anymore. Restlessness was rising up in him, and he suddenly felt the need to move. To _do_ something. He sighed and unlocked his phone, deciding to browse the local news until the strange feeling faded and he could once again sit still and do the one thing he felt safe doing.

His purple nails tapped against the screen as he opened up Chrome, scrolling down the local news. As he lived in New York City, there was a lot of it, but none of it interested him in the least. But then his eyes snapped back to a certain article that he had passed over just a moment before. _Art Exhibit – Open Only on October 6th!_ Today was October 6th, and it was eleven a-m. _Maybe… I could go?_ The thought was horrifying to him. No doubt there would be so many people there. Any one of them could be looking to take something from someone- or that someone themself. Quickly, Virgil put his phone aside and tried to forget about it.

But try as hard as he might, he could not stop thinking about it. His picture remained impossible to draw for some unknown reason. It felt like something inside him was doing it purposefully. _Why can’t this turn out right?_ Deciding to let himself be lazy this one time, Virgil stood up and went to the kitchen. He took the bowl of fruit from the counter and returned to his desk, where he set it down in front of his drawing tablet. If he couldn’t draw it from his head, then he would base the picture off something real.

This, however, did him no good. Somehow, Virgil just could not get the lines and shapes right. Nothing was working. He found himself lying on his bed, groaning with frustration into his pillow. _I’m better than this! I’ve never had a problem drawing fruit before!_ The art exhibit popped back into his head, nagging at him. _I’m not going! It’s way too dangerous! I just have to focus on my work, I’ll get it right eventually._

Twenty whole painstakingly long minutes passed by before he finally gave up. It just wasn’t turning out. He had not made any progress, and he was wasting his time. A quiet ringing was vibrating through his mind and all he could think about was the art exhibit. Even though his fears were screaming at him not to go, Virgil knew that getting out of the apartment would help get rid of his ‘art block’. Sighing, he turned off his tablet, grabbed his wallet, travel sketchbook, and a pencil, and headed outside with his jacket hood up.

Something important about Virgil was his crushing Anthropophobia. He’d had it ever since he was 13, and had never managed to shake it off. This was why he never left his house much or talked to anyone. Everyone was someone to be feared in his eyes; no one could be trusted. Of course, he didn’t think everyone was evil. But there was no way to tell the difference between a kind person or someone acting.

Virgil made his way down the block and to the bus station. Taking the bus was much safer than walking. On the streets, anyone could grab you, but on the bus, there was nowhere to go. He waited for the next one to show up on the bench, observing the environment around him carefully. There were a few people on the sidewalks, but people mostly traversed Brooklyn by car. For the time being, he felt safe and started taking in the sights in a more relaxed manner.

It was not that special of a street, but everything was interesting to Virgil. As an artist, he felt it was his responsibility and part of his job to notice everything about the world and take it in, remember it. If it wasn’t for his Anthropophobia, he would be out every day taking walks and going to the park. If there weren’t any humans in the world except him, he would be exploring. Nothing was better than spending the day outdoors, in the woods where no one could see him. This street was not the woods, but it was still outside of his apartment. The dark road stretched from one horizon to the other, with buildings lining it without fail. These buildings were all sorts of colors, although they did share the same box shape. The businesses inside were all different, just like the colors, except for there being three coffee shops. He looked into their windows from the bench, watching the people inside working or shopping. Virgil was so very much unlike them in so many ways. They were normal, and he was not.

He was already in a better mood when the bus arrived. Climbing up the two steps, he paid for his trip and quickly went to a row that wasn’t taken, with nobody in front or behind him. This was in order to preserve his good mood best he could. As the large vehicle lurched forward and drove slowly through Brooklyn, Virgil smiled a little to himself. _Maybe it isn’t so bad to go out…_ Now he began to observe the people instead of the environment.

There were nine other people along for the ride. Four of them were individuals, while there was a couple and a group of three. The group of three was a mother and her two teenage daughters. The mother had bright ginger hair that tumbled around her shoulders, with an airy autumn flower shirt and green pants that went down to her mid-thighs. She was sitting in the row in front of her daughters, turned to face them. The daughter by the window had the same length of hair, but it was a dark wavy brown mostly hidden by a blue-sequin baseball cap. Blue glasses perched on her nose, her deep brown eyes staring out onto the street. It was apparent she was daydreaming, and not listening to her mother. She wore white jeans with a white buttoned-up shirt underneath a gray business jacket, the sleeves rolled up around her mid-forearm. The last of the three women sat on the isle seat. She had longer brown hair than the other sister, with purple glasses and blue eyes. Instead of pants, she had red leggings with running shorts on, along with a shirt that said, “Magic always comes with a price”. _Tourists, sight-seeing everything. They’re pretty tan… they’re from California, probably._ Quickly, he sketched them out. It was a very interesting dynamic. And apparently going out for even just ten minutes automatically made him better at drawing, as the picture turned out fine.

The couple- or what Virgil’s very gay mind assumed was a couple- was two men in their early twenties. They maybe were brothers, but their body language suggested something else. The one next to the window was wearing a simple green T-shirt with baggy blue jeans, his dark skin matching his bright pink glasses. His eyes were a very pale aqua, and his hair was buzzed. The other man had very pale skin opposed to his partner, with bleached white hair that hung around his pierced ears. His eyes were a very faded green, almost gray. A red long-sleeved shirt draped around his torso with black jeans hanging around his ankles. The two were speaking with one another quietly, and the one with aqua eyes seemed very uncomfortable and fidgety, although subtly so. _Hmm… the one on the isle is from a hand-me-down family, and the other guy is a cross-dresser lying low._ It was a sort of habit of Virgil’s to try to guess who the people he observed were. He got them down on paper too before looking over at one of the individuals.

The one his eyes came across first was an older man reading a newspaper. There wasn’t much to tell about him; he was wearing a plaid gold-and-green button-up shirt and jeans. There was an elderly woman behind him and- oh, she wasn’t an individual. There was a young boy seated next to her, whom Virgil had missed on his first glance around. The elderly woman was wearing a silver dress that reached her knees, a pearl necklace laid across her shoulders. Her hair was light blonde, wrapped in a bun atop her head. The little boy, probably around the age of six, had a beige coat on with jeans, his short brown hair covered by a warm hat. Both were Hispanic, and the woman was speaking in Spanish to him. _A grandmother and grandson spending the day together while the parents of the boy are at work._ That was an easy one.

Virgil almost dropped his pencil when the bus screeched to a halt. It was time for him to get off. Standing up, he made his way to the door along with the threesome, the couple, the grandmother and grandson, and one of the other individuals. _Get off quick, don’t let them come near you._ He nearly leaped from the bus and onto the pavement, pulling out his phone to check he was at the right stop. _It should be on this block…_ Fear rose up inside him when he realized that all of the passengers were going the same way. _They must be going to the art exhibit too… or they’re all coming after me._ He quickened his pace so he’d have at least twenty feet between them.

The building the art exhibit was being held in was a sight to behold. It was five stories high, with shiny-looking walls and tall, clear windows lining the sides. You could even see indistinguishable paintings hung up inside. The neighboring architecture next to it was nowhere near as sophisticated as it. Although, it looked more like an office building than an art gallery. The name of the company was on the top of the building; _J. S. Inc._. Virgil could have sworn he had seen that name somewhere before, but he did not know where exactly. _Must be some big business or something._ The doors were made of glass, with silver handles. All in all, it looked very new. Very futuristic.

The other eight were still following him. Had it really been a coincidence and they had all gotten on the same bus to go to the same art gallery? To be fair, it was a one-day-only exhibit, so this would be the only day to come. As for the time, they could’ve come from an early lunch to get there before the rush of other tourists. He was desperately trying to reassure himself that no, they were not going to hurt him. They were simply there to see some art like him. There was nothing to be afraid of. His Anthropophobia kept him on edge though, and he was thankful for the pocketknife he always carried.

The artist wished he had brought a little bag to carry his stuff in. He must have looked strange, or maybe even like a homeless person. His purple-and-black jacket had patches sewn onto it and his black jeans were ripped. The applied eyeshadow made him look tired, which he was, but not as tired as he appeared. _Oh well, I’m less likely to get mugged this way._

He made it to the glass doors, and opening them wide, he stepped inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Virgil is really popular, because it seems like everyone in the entire building wants to talk to him.

Immediately, Virgil was blasted with a rush of cold air from the vent just inside the doors. He was thankful for his thick, large jacket, glad that it would keep him warm. It was almost a completely empty lobby, with only one person at the counter paying the entry fee. He stayed away from them until went to the room on the left. Walking up slowly, Virgil silently put seven dollars on the counter with his head down, his purple bangs hanging over his eyes, not wanting to interact any more than he had to with the employee. The employee was actually a curator; it said so on his name tag. _Timothy Hobbes – Curator._ He was tall, wearing professional black attire, and looked to be in his late twenties. Timothy frowned at him, “You feeling okay, man?” When he did nothing but nod, the curator shrugged. “Alright, if you say so.”

 _What if he reaches over the counter and grabs you? And the security guards don’t do anything? And neither do the other people here?_ He quickly made his way to the room on the right, as to not run into the other visitor he had seen. Unfortunately, there was a teenage guy and his father staring at the sculpture of a nude woman in there. _Don’t go near them, don’t go near them._ The teenager was shorter than average, with scruffy blonde hair and a football jersey on. His sneakers were bright orange, with atrocious red shorts to match. _Those colors don’t go together!_ Virgil’s artistic mind was almost offended by his outfit. The father wore a dark blue shirt with black pants, his grayish hair cut short and pristine. They had their backs to Virgil, so he couldn’t see their faces. He went to a corner of the room to look at one painting in particular. It was huge, probably eight feet wide and six feet tall. The picture was of a horse-drawn carriage with a beautiful young lady sitting inside, on a dirt road in the countryside. It was truly spectacular. _This is amazing…_ It was a good thing he didn’t have any other plans for the day; if the other paintings were this good, then he was going to be here for a while.

The individual from the bus suddenly stormed into the room, scoffing at the two men. They were dressed very androgynously, looking edgy in a way that even Virgil was impressed at. Their hair was in a green mohawk, with a lip ring and studs going all the way up and around the curve of their ears. The shoulders of their black leather jacket had tiny blunt spikes on them, and their black skinny jeans went up to their mid-abdomen. To his ever-increasing terror, they headed straight for him and crossed their arms.

“What’s up with those guys?” they muttered. “Did they come here just to be perverted?”

Virgil took a few moments to respond, making sure his voice didn’t come out too wobbly. “Probably. They’ve been staring at it for a few minutes. Don’t see the merit in it myself.” He subtly moved a few inches away from the edgy dresser, clinging onto control over his distress at them being so close. Of course, they didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon and extended their hand in a friendly sort of manner. “I’m Cora, they/them. Do you got a name or are you secretly some terrorist who can’t share their name?”

Staring at the hand for a moment, Virgil decided against shaking it even though he knew it was rude. _Never touch anybody._ “Virgil,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “Um, he/him. Anthropophobia.” The moment he said this, they retracted their hand and their expression changed to that of awkwardness. They cleared their throat, “Oh, uh, sorry. I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to. You just seemed kinda cool and to be honest, my gaydar is kicking in around you.”

This brought a jolt of panic striking through him. Memories spiked through his head and he took a few steps away from Cora. They looked shocked at his strong reaction, obviously wanting to approach him to help but knowing that would only make things worse. “Whoa! You okay? Did I say something wrong?”

 _Calm down, calm down, calm down, they’re not going to hurt me. I’m not there. Five things I can see; the painting, the floor, Cora, the nude sculpture, the walls. Four things I can feel; my jacket, my shoes, the cold air conditioning, my sweat. Three things I can hear; Cora’s voice, people talking in the lobby, the blood roaring in my ears. Two things I can smell; old wood and my jacket. One thing I can taste; peanut butter._ His breathing slowed down to a normal pace as he brought himself back to the present. Glancing up at Cora, he shook his head. “I-I’m fine, you’re good. I’m asexual, though.” To be perfectly honest, there was a high chance that he _wasn’t_ asexual and that they were correct, but Virgil would never be able to trust anyone enough to be in a relationship.

“Ah,” Cora bit their lip, “That makes sense.” They paused for a moment before speaking again. “Just wondering, what’s it like to have Anthropophobia? How does that work?”

He thought about the best way to explain it for a good thirty seconds. Finally, he sighed, “Basically, imagine every human as a giant spider that wants to hurt or kill you.”

They nodded in understanding. The two turned to the painting, not meeting each others’ eyes. Cora then took in a deep breath, “Well, guess I’ll see you around here then. Talk to you later? Or am I being too forward?” When he hesitantly shook his head, they smiled. “Okay then, I gotta get back to my job then. I’m a photographer- they’re having me take pictures of some things for their website or something.” Within a few moments they had disappeared into the next room. Virgil didn’t think Cora really understand what Anthropophobia meant, but didn’t care either way. It wasn’t his problem. Even for normal people, it wasn’t exactly practiced that you should go up to a random stranger and strike up a conversation with them. Especially in an art gallery when people are soaking up beautiful masterpieces.

The two other men finally moved on from the sculpture and to the wall next to Virgil. He crossed over to the other side of the open space to avoid any contact with them. People like them were ones he tried to stay away from no matter what. They were the dangerous ones. Actually, he had liked Cora somewhat, and they seemed nice. But just because a spider isn’t dangerous doesn’t mean you’re not scared of it still.

The little boy from the bus came in at a jog, with his grandmother walking more slowly behind him. He seemed happy to be here unlike most children that Virgil had known when he himself was one. _It was a bad idea coming here,_ Virgil thought as the kid came up to him and turned to his grandmother. “¡Abuela! ¡Es el chico del autobús!” He then looked up at Virgil in awe and he started to feel very uncomfortable. The grandmother’s eyes widened and she hurried over. “¡Dante! No molestes al joven.” She glanced over at Virgil, “Sorry, he does not know any better. Vamos, Dante, veamos el arte moderno.”

“¿Puedo pedir ver sus dibujos?” the boy, Dante, gave her a pleading look. The older lady heaved a sigh and nodded. Dante beamed and gestured to Virgil’s sketchbook, “Can I see your pictures, buen señor?”

He was at a complete loss for words. For all he knew, the child would run off with his pencil drawings and sell them for himself. And yet… there was something about him that made him want to comply anyways. Virgil handed him the small booklet and Dante opened it quickly, carefully making sure not to wreck the binding. He flipped through the artwork, his mouth slightly ajar as he whispered, “wow”, every now and then. His reactions made Virgil smile a little, and his fears ebbed slightly. The grandmother also was slightly surprised by the skill the pictures were drawn in. She furrowed her eyebrows at him, “You drew these yourself? You should have some pictures of yours in here.”

Nothing could be more uncomfortable than this. He nervously moved his bangs even more in front of his eyes. “I’m not that good. They’re just pencil drawings.” He did not mention that he was a digital artist, as that would only invite them to ask more questions. All he wanted was for them to leave him alone so he could look at all the beautiful artwork that surrounded them. It was what he came for; not for people to constantly talk to him. The old woman seemed to notice his anxiousness and put a hand lightly on her grandson’s shoulder. “Muy bien, devuélvele su cuaderno de bocetos. Again, I apologize- what is your name, young man? I am Margaret- this is Dante.”

 _Am I really going to just give my name out to all these random strangers?_ “Virgil,” he muttered, “And it’s fine. It’s nice to see someone excited about art.” _Why am I making small talk? I should say something rude so they leave!_ Being a nice person, though, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, Dante gave him back his sketchbook and the two left together, leaving him once more alone. Just the way he liked it. Yet… there was something about Dante that he found intriguing. He didn’t know exactly what, but there was something.

Virgil then had an idea. He would be much less likely to run into anybody if he started on floor three and made his way down. Not only that, but he wouldn’t have to make the return journey back down for nothing and he could leave immediately when he was finished. _Hopefully, I’ll finally get some peace._ All he had to do was find the nearest elevator or staircase and go up to the third floor- preferably an elevator.

His wish was granted, and to his relief nobody joined him in the silver box. As the machine lifted upwards, he began to wonder what it was like for other people to not be constantly afraid. To have the courage to approach someone and introduce themself. For him it was one of his most terrible nightmares, but for others it seemed normal. They were foolish, of course, to be so trusting of strangers. But maybe it was better to live in ignorance rather than be safe? Was that a choice everyone made at one point or another, and he was the only one who decided to be cautious?

It wasn’t something he liked thinking about. If he was the only one, maybe he was wrong.

The elevator doors slid open onto the third floor and he stepped out into the empty space. From where he was standing, Virgil couldn’t see anyone else. _Thank goodness._ Now he had an entire floor to himself, and nobody would make him freak out. Once again he was in solitude, alone with all the art he could possibly want to view. An awed smile like Dante’s lit up his face as he became entranced in the nearest painting. This one was of a little dancing girl on fire. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The girl in the picture had dark cream skin, with dark brown hair flowing down her shoulders. She was wearing a deep red dress that swirled around her legs as if there was a strong wind pushing against her. In her hands she held a ring of fire taller than herself, and the fire was going up her arms, burning her hair. Her expression was calm, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. There was no fear in her gaze. Virgil took a photo of it with his phone before sitting down on the floor and beginning to sketch.

It was not a copy of the painting on the wall. It was more of an inspiration. His own picture turned out to be of a young boy, about the age of six, holding a ring of water instead. The water was soaking him as the same breeze blew it into him. His clothes sopped with the liquid, and his hair was slick. A look of astonishment adorned his face. When Virgil took a moment to view the whole thing, he realized he’d drawn Dante. _What is with that kid?_ What was it about Dante that made him stick out in his mind?

The two men from the first floor came up the stairs. Quickly, he shut his sketchbook and stood up, staying just next to the wall and hoping they would just pass by him. But when they looked around and spotted Virgil, they started walking towards him. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._ His heart started to beat wildly and he pretended not to notice them, just heading into the next room. _They’re coming after me. What do I do? There’s nothing I can use to protect myself with! Maybe I can hide?_ What was there to hide behind, though? It was an art gallery. The way they had been looking at him was a very sure sign that he was in danger. Adrenaline fueling him and blood pumping through his body, Virgil started running for the nearest open walkway. The teen and father were still following him, now at a slightly faster pace. _I can’t believe they’re actually trying to do this! We’re in a building with security cameras!_ Security cameras weren’t going to save him, though. Now he really regretted his decision of going to the one place where nobody else was around.

“Hey!” the teen called to him. “We just want to talk to you! About your art?”

Before Virgil could respond, suddenly all the lights went out. The whole floor was flooded with darkness and he used this to his advantage to dive towards the nearest corner he’d been able to see a few moments before. The teen cried out in fear, “What the hell?! What’s going on, is there a blackout?!”

He heard a door creaking open from across the room. _Isn’t that the bathroom?_ Running footsteps crossed the gallery and into where the teen and father were. _Someone must’ve been in there when the lights went out…_ And then he heard the unmistakable _schink!_ of someone getting hit. A caterwauling scream from the teen reverberated throughout the open area, and the father yelled, “Gary!” Virgil would have run from whatever was going on, but his eyes still hadn’t adjusted. Someone had lowered the window blinds while he was on the first floor.

A maniacal laugh rang in his ears as Gary wailed in pain again. Something terrible was happening. There was a loud _thunk!_ followed by the sound of someone falling to the ground. He could hear one of them sobbing before it ended abruptly. Quiet humming passed by Virgil and eventually faded as somebody walked away.

The lights turned back on.

Virgil did not want to go into the neighboring room. He was slouched into a wall corner, clutching himself as terror kept a firm hold on him. _Should I just leave? But what if… what if someone was killed? They’d blame me for it, it would look like I did it! I have to go see; I have to stay for questioning._ It was the worst kind of dilemma to be in. Or perhaps he’d imagined all of this and had simply had a panic attack. _That’s possible. Those two could still be after me._ Wouldn’t he be hearing them right now, though, searching for him? _Curiosity killed the cat._ Or maybe something worse would if he didn’t.

Standing up shakily, he pulled out his pocketknife- which he’d thankfully remembered- and slowly made his way to the other room. He held his knife out in front of him, his hand trembling, ready to defend himself if needed. His heart was beating at a million miles per minute, adrenaline rushing through him. _What am I going to find?_

What he saw made him scream in utter horror, disgust, and fright.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That got intense fast- hopefully, Virgil doesn't get blamed for the murders.

Virgil tumbled backwards, dropping his knife, his scream dying off. What once were the bodies of Gary and his father were now mutilated pieces of flesh scattered across the room. Blood was pooling into the carpet, staining it dark red. An arm laid here, a leg laid there. Gary’s head, which had been ripped off from his neck, was smashed in from some kind of blunt weapon. Bits of brain tissue were leaking out. Virgil took off from the room and rushed into the bathroom, flinging himself into the nearest stall and throwing up the contents of his stomach. The image of that room stayed with him, displayed in his mind even though he was no longer there. Tears filled his eyes as his chest restricted, making it almost impossible to breathe. There was a serial killer in the building and they had murdered two people in the course of a few minutes. They had been _in that bathroom_. What if this was where they had escaped to? What if they were in one of the other stalls? He burst into sobs, hugging his knees up to his chest, his body shaking as terror kept him from doing anything else. This day was the worst day of his entire life.

No. No, it wasn’t. It was bad, but it wasn’t _that_ bad. Nothing had happened to him- yet.

The door to the bathroom slammed open and someone look into the stall he was in. It was one of the two security guards from the first floor. He pointed his gun straight at Virgil. “Alright, was it you who killed those two guys?”

Quickly backing up against the toilet, Virgil screamed. Panic seized him and he was unable to speak. All he could do was stare at the gun. _I never should have come here. I’m going to die._ Somebody else then shoved the security guard aside- it was Cora. They glared at the officer, “Dude, this guy has Anthropophobia! He told me so! I’m gonna guess from that vomit that he saw what happened and freaked out. You okay?”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Cora frowned and turned to the other man. “We should leave him alone for now. Us being here won’t make him any more calm. He’s obviously too shaken to answer any questions, let alone be the murderer. And even if he somehow is, it’s not like he can go anywhere. You’ll be good, right, Virgil?” When he managed to nod, they smiled. “Alright, let’s go back out there.” The two disappeared from the stall entryway, and Virgil heard the bathroom door creaked open and then swing close. _Thank goodness they’re gone._ His worries ebbed some, and it became easier to breathe. Knowing that he was alone, without the risk of somebody coming to hurt or kill him, lifted a weight from his shoulders. If the murderer had been in here, those two would’ve seen them.

The problem was that Virgil needed to go out there and face everyone. If he refused to go out and tell them what he heard, then they would think he was the killer. To be fair, he did act like he was hiding something, but it was only because he was scared of every single person in the art gallery. There was no one he could trust; any one of them could be that horrible person who had decimated those two men. They could even come into the bathroom at that moment and kill him while nobody was looking.

This motivated him enough to stand up and walk out. _Heh… I’m safer with the people I’m scared of than alone- how ironic._ The door creaked as he passed through it, and the security guard from earlier glanced over. He had been speaking with Margaret and Dante. “There you are. We have some questions for you.”

 _What if they don’t believe me?_ He felt a cold shiver go down his spine. _I’ll go to jail. I’ll have to be around the people I’m_ right _not to trust. I’ll be killed in there!_ The two security guards approached him. The other one- a tall woman with long blonde hair and sparkling amber eyes- frowned at him suspiciously. “Alright, so you were apparently the only other person on this floor when the lights went out. Where were you and what were you doing?”

It took him a moment to speak. Officers and working employees were the scariest people to talk to- of course, that was a fear he believed most people had. He took in a deep breath and then spoke quietly. “I was sketching when the two guys came upstairs. They started following me around- I think one of them said something about wanting to ask about my art- but then the lights went out. I was afraid they were after me, so I hid in that corner.” Virgil pointed to the spot he had been crouching in. “Then I heard the bathroom door creak open, and someone ran over to them. They had some sort of weapon and hit the teen first. Once they had killed the father, they finished the teen off and left.”

The first officer nodded, “And when the lights came back on?”

“I pulled out my pocket knife in case the killer came after me too and went to investigate. When I saw what happened, I panicked and ran to the bathroom to hide. And I was sick from… that.” He gestured to the remains that were still lying on the floor.

The woman glared down at him- she was a good two inches taller than him at what must’ve been 5’11”. Her face was contorted into an expression of distrust. “How do we know you’re telling the truth? Nobody was up here to confirm your story. You could very well be faking the whole Anthropophobia thing just so we’ll leave you alone.” She took a step towards him, and he took a step back. _This is harassment!_ “You said you had a pocket knife. You do realize that you’re not allowed to have weapons in this building, right?”

His heartbeat spiked. _I’m going to be arrested!_ His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I- I-I always have it on me, i-in case I’m attacked.” Virgil desperately hoped that they would believe him. He didn’t care what they had him do to prove he was telling the truth. If he went to jail, he was going to die. The man looked over at his fellow officer. “Diane, just look him up in the database for previous offences. I think he’s telling the truth.”

Diane rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. A few taps here and there before she said without looking up, “What’s your name, emo?”

“V- Virgil Sanders,” he felt his mouth go dry. Anyone who had been listening now knew who he was. They could find out where he lived; they could rob him or murder him while he slept. If he even made it out of the gallery, of course. Diane scrolled through the database before pausing, her eyes flickering over the screen. She then snapped her head up at him with a startled look, sympathy blossoming in her gaze. “You’re… Virgil Sanders. Sorry about all this. I just read up on the case, if I had known I wouldn’t have even had you speak with us.”

 _Thank goodness, she believes me now._ Virgil silently shrugged and they both turned away. Diane whispered something to the man and he nodded in understanding, looking back at Virgil for a moment. _What do they think of me now? Well, they certainly know why I have Anthropophobia now. Maybe they’ll get people to just leave me alone._ He spotted Cora talking with someone he hadn’t seen before and they met his gaze. Perking up, they glanced back at the other person, said something inaudible, and then jogged over to him. “Hey, looks like you got out of questioning. They already went through most everyone else already, there are only a few people left. Do you think it’s one of us or somebody they don’t know about?”

“Who else can it be?” he frowned. “Nobody could’ve gotten in without them knowing about it. They literally stand in the lobby waiting to pounce on anyone that looks suspicious.”

“I heard you say they had a weapon- nobody here has a weapon that could do that.” They gestured to the area of body parts. Virgil felt his stomach lurch just looking at it again. Was this what was going to happen to all of them? Were they all going to be slaughtered, murdered, their insides scattered across the art gallery? One could say that was a work of art itself. He spotted his pocket knife on the ground across the room. Not sure whether it was wise to grab a weapon just after two people had been killed, he stayed where he was, wishing he had it. He’d certainly feel a lot safer with it. Cora looked around at the mess, “How come you came up here? Usually people start on floor one.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Nobody was supposed to be up here.”

To his surprise, Cora suddenly whipped their head to look at him. “Virgil, answer me truthfully. Were you going to kill yourself up here?” Their eyes pierced into his very soul, and fear made him freeze where he stood. _They’re really a nosy person!_ It wasn't every day that a stranger accused you of planning suicide. Which he obviously hadn’t been, he’d only wanted to be alone. What could you expect from someone with Anthropophobia? Being on the bottom floor would have been like walking around a room with giant demons lurking here and there. It was not somewhere you would want to be. He finally managed to speak, “Of course not. Just didn’t feel like talking to every single person in the entire building.”

They heaved a sigh, looking a little guilty. “Yeah, I didn’t help, did I?”

Out of nowhere, Diane suddenly shouted, “Alright, round up! We’re having a meeting right now to discuss what further action shall be commenced.” Virgil flinched, not having expected such a loud noise so suddenly. Should he get his knife before the meeting? _It can wait. I need the others to trust me, even if I don’t trust them._ He and Cora walked over to the gathering others. There were ten people besides him, Cora, and the security guards, only two of which he hadn’t seen before. One was a short woman with dark skin and long black curls that reached her elbows, a short blue form-fitting dress going just over her knees. The other was a towering bald man wearing casual clothes. The male security guard glanced over everyone. “Before we get started, we should all probably introduce ourselves so we don’t have any confusion. I’m Officer Jake Blackwell, and this is Officer Diane Shelley.”

Nobody spoke for a few moments.

Finally, the mother of the two teenagers cleared her throat. “Um, hi, I’m Elizabeth, and these are my daughters Varina and Jeanette.” She casually pulled her red hair out of her face as she pointed to the two teens in turn. Jeanette was the one wearing the “magic always comes with a price shirt”, while Varina was the daydreamer. Varina waved awkwardly while Jeanette gave a fake smile. This seemed to get people moving. Margaret patted Dante’s head, “I am Margaret, and this is my grandson Dante.”

Dante ducked away from her reach. “¡Abuela, puedo presentarme!” He huffed and scuffed his shoe against the tile floor. Virgil smiled a little at this, as well as some of the others. The undercover cross-dresser gave a little wave, “I’m Damien, and this is my boyfriend, Simon.” _Aha, so I was right!_ The two were holding hands now, so it was obvious. The bald guy huffed at them and then looked back at the security guards. “I’m Patrick. Can’t you tell us who the murderer is already? I wanna know what’s going on.”

Diane crossed her arms, “None of us are murderers. We think that somebody got in last night and waited until now to come out of hiding. We have already called for backup, but they will take an hour to get the necessary people here. This building used to be a very important business, so equipment was installed back then to keep it protected against almost anything. This includes steel retractable walls that have covered every exit on the first floor so the killer can’t escape and wreak havoc on Brooklyn, and a panic room on the first floor. The problem is that we’re stuck in here with the killer, so we’re going to go in three groups down to the panic room for stealth and to avoid getting mass-murdered. Staying in one spot will get us killed. But before we go, we should know everyones’ names, so please continue introducing yourselves.”

Silence prevailed once more until Cora raised a hand. “I’m Cora- a photographer, so no useful survival skills for this particular scenario. Maybe next time though!” They grinned, but the only person who showed a sign of enjoyment at the joke was Varina, who let out a single laugh before Elizabeth sent her a glare. Cora elbowed Virgil expectantly and he jerked away from them. Unfortunately, this brought attention to himself. Everyone looked over at him and he felt like they were waiting for him to make a wrong move. One bad move and he would be called out as the killer. He mumbled, “V-Virgil.”

“Louder,” Cora hissed to him. He sent them a sharp look and said more clearly, “Virgil.”

Surprisingly, nobody seemed to care about him. They carried on with sharing- the curator was Timothy, which Virgil already knew, and the short woman was named Alesha. Now everyone knew everyones’ names. Virgil nervously fidgeted with his jacket sleeves. Who was he going to be grouped with? _I hope not the bald guy, or the gay pair._ Jake Blackwell came over to him and spoke softly. “Is there anyone you would prefer to be in a group with? You having a panic attack would be really bad at the moment.”

 _Thank goodness,_ he let out a small sigh of relief and answered quickly. “Cora, Margaret, and Dante. What about you and Officer Diane? Who are you going with?”

“Well,” Jake thought for a moment. “I’m thinking your group will be you, those three, and myself. Diane will be going with Elizabeth, Varina, and Jeanette. That leaves Timothy with Patrick, Alesha, Damian, and Simon. Hopefully, they’ll be able to fend for themselves without a trained professional.” He almost put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, but then pulled back. “Well, try to stay calm. We’re leaving in five minutes.” Turning away, he headed off back to Diane.

Virgil immediately went to get his pocket knife. When he picked it up, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. If anything tried to kill him, he had some means of defense- even if it was just a small knife. Slipping it back into his jacket pocket, he made his way over to Margaret and Dante. Dante was looking at one of the paintings in his usual awestruck manner, while the older lady was keeping a keen eye everywhere. _Smart- she’s keeping watch for the killer._ He stood next to the little boy, not saying anything but somehow… _enjoying_ Dante’s company. _That’s new._ He’d never- well, not for a long time- felt connected to someone. But this boy didn’t seem dangerous at all. Virgil had his reservations, obviously, but he was just a child. There was nothing he could do to hurt Virgil.

The boy stared up at him, “Virgil?”

“Yeah?” he met Dante’s gaze. Dante looked worried, and even a little scared. “Do you think we’re all gonna die?” the boy asked. “Patrick told me that we should just stay here and die because it’s not even worth the try to make it out. He said that anybody who can kill a person like that-” he pointed at the remains of Gary and his father. “-can easily do the same to the rest of us. But my abuela says we’re gonna live. What do you think?”

For a moment, Virgil didn’t say anything. Then he lightly patted Dante’s head, “We’ll live.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off they go! What a wonderful expedition- oh dear, they ran into the murderer.

It was ten minutes before Virgil’s group left, as it turned out. Patrick had demanded his own team go first, leaving before anyone could stop him. They were making gaps between their leaving times for more safe travel. Virgil was just glad to be going when Jake Blackwell finally gave them the signal and they headed off. _Let’s hope that we make it even to the second floor._ The murderer could be anywhere, waiting to kill the rest of them. The thought terrified him, and he tried not to think about it too much.

To his surprise, Virgil began to realize just how far he had run when trying to escape the two men. _I must’ve gone through the entire level…_ What luck; they had extra ground to cover. He cursed his past self, although he knew there was no way he could’ve known better. _We’ll just have to deal with it._ It was the way things had happened; he couldn’t change the past.

Cora ended up walking beside him. They searched his face with their eyes for a moment before speaking softly. “You holding up, Virgil? This must be really stressing you out. I mean, it’s stressing _me_ out, and you have anxiety issues.”

“I’m fine,” Virgil mumbled. Talking to someone was not helping his rising alarm. The problem was that if he showed signs of panicking, the others would be desperately trying to help and only making it worse. Once again, he thought about whether being afraid of all other humans was a choice everyone made. _Maybe somebody else can give me some answers._ He reluctantly decided to ask Cora about it. “When you were young, did you make the decision to trust random people? Even when they could potentially be dangerous?”

They seemed confused at first, taking a few moments to answer. “Not consciously, no. I trust my instincts. I’m careful when I think I need to be, but I’m not overly para-” They stopped, glancing at him nervously. He was looking at the ground, though, deep in thought. _Am I really the only one like this?_ That idea unsettled him. Cora waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey! Just because I didn’t, doesn’t mean nobody else has. Look, you obviously had something bad happen to you at some point in your life, and that’s what caused you to fear other people. Your brain believes that will protect you. Other people have the same thing, Virgil, that’s why it has an actual name. Don’t think you’re stupid or weird for being scared. It’s just how you cope with life. Whenever I get scared, I eat a carton of ice cream. That’s probably worse than running away. Because ice cream isn’t that good for you, while exercise is.” They winked at him, although he was slightly confused as to how their weird metaphor was supposed to cheer him up. Somehow, their lightheartedness in the situation was comforting, though. _If they’re not afraid of this… does that mean I’m just overreacting?_ If he was overreacting, then maybe the situation wasn’t as dangerous as he thought it was. He relaxed just slightly. “Do you think we’ll survive this?”

For a few moments, they thought this through. “Well… it depends on what happens next. They got lucky coming across just two people in the dark. Now we’re in bigger groups. But if they can kill a whole group just themself… then I think we’re screwed. They have the advantage of stealth, being just a single person. The bigger group we have, the easier we are to spot. And if they really are a ruthless serial killer…” They sighed, trailing off. All of Virgil’s hopes shattered to tiny pieces and he regained his worries. _We really are going to die in here._

Just in front of him, Dante tripped over his untied shoelaces. Virgil nearly tumbled over him but managed to halt just in time. The six-year-old boy quickly redid the knot, and pushed onto his feet. He looked up at Virgil apologetically, “¡Lo siento!”

 _I’m gonna guess he said sorry?_ “It’s fine, Dante,” Virgil reassured him, ruffling his hair briefly. For some reason, touching Dante didn’t scare him. It was just another thing that confused him about the child. Why did he feel mostly okay with Dante? He was the only person since... before that Virgil felt comfortable with. He hadn’t even known the kid for more than an hour, and yet there was something about him…

“Virgil…” Dante looked away uncertainly. “You said earlier that we were going to live. But Cora just said that we weren’t, if they were really bad. The killer, I mean.”

 _Oh no._ Virgil frowned and shook his head. He started walking again, with Dante beside him. _I can’t let Dante lose hope- that’ll get him killed when nothing but hope will save him._ Hope was a powerful thing- he’d read that in a book somewhere. “Some people think pessimistically. In this situation, that comes into play. But if we’re going to be realistic, there’s a point that no single guy can take on a whole group of people, one of which is military trained for combat. So, don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.” He hated that he had to lie to Dante, but what else could he do? Hearing constant negativity would only make this whole thing worse for him. It could also make the situation more traumatic in the aftermath.

Trauma was not something Virgil wanted Dante to have.

The five of them continued onwards, now silently so. Talking more would just attract the one person they didn’t want to face. Although, time and time again Virgil found himself staring at the paintings they passed by. They were all beautiful and inspiring, and it took him all his energy to resist stopping to draw. All the art around him was so creative, so gut-wrenchingly thought provoking. If only he could’ve seen it all before this happened. Before two people had been murdered. _I shouldn’t have stayed at home for so long refusing to go._ He cursed his past self for being so overly cautious. It wouldn’t have been any more dangerous to go earlier than later. _There’s nothing I can do about it now._ The only thing he _could_ do was get a small glimpse of them as they passed by.

There was one in particular that he had to take a picture of, though. Whipping out his phone and furiously unlocking it, he took the quickest picture of the painting he could while getting it focused. This painting was of a forest; a very large forest, as the frame was probably around eighteen feet wide and ten feet tall. It took up an entire wall by itself. _Whoever made this was dedicated…_ The trees were massive, with deep brown trunks and branches stretching over the top of a path that wound its way through the undergrowth. The leaves scattered on the dirt and up in the air were so many different colors- red, orange, yellow, and beige. A few were in the frozen process of falling. Throughout the drawing he could spot all kinds of different small woodland animals, hidden here and there. In the center of the trail was a single squirrel, standing on its hind legs with an acorn held in its grasp. Its eyes were black and beady, its fur a pale fuzzy gray. Everything about the picture spoke to Virgil, evoking a sense of calm over him.

That was until Cora grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the terrifying reality that was the art gallery, where a murderer was loose, and there was a chance he was going to die. He’d only been looking at the painting for a few moments, but the others were already ten feet away. Cora dragged him along until he was aware enough to walk on his own. He ripped his arm from her grasp and hissed, “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry,” they shrugged. “You were going to be left behind if I didn’t do anything.”

Nobody had touched his arm since… _then_. He felt somewhat violated, and he was shaking with fear. That mere five-second grasp had completely wiped his mind of any calm. Fear washed over him and he moved to the front of the group with Jake, trying to get as far away from Cora as he could. His trust in them had vanished for the current moment. Jake gave him a strange look before returning his gaze to where they were headed. He then halted abruptly, and Virgil did the same. In the room in front of them were the stairs to the second floor.

They were going to have to be careful going downstairs. They could be attacked from above or below, with only one way to go either way. Up or down stairs would be hard to control, as one could trip and be left behind while running. They had to be sure nobody was around before proceeding. Luckily, this duty did not fall onto Virgil’s shoulders; Cora started a stealthy perimeter check while Jake inched towards the stairs, his gun prepared to shoot anything that came up them. Virgil, Margaret, and Dante stayed against the wall, keeping their eyes and ears open for danger.

_CRACK! Thump!_

The nearly deafening sound shook Virgil to his core, along with the sight it accompanied. Dante cried out in surprise, while Margaret gasped. His ears still ringing from the gunshot, his eyes widened in horror as the body of an already-dead Patrick crumpled to the ground in front of Jake. He had come flying up from the staircase with no warning. Jake stared at the body before lifting his gun back to the stairs. Cora ran over but froze halfway to them when they all heard a bone-chilling sound.

It was the same laugh that Virgil had heard earlier, when Gary and his father were being slaughtered. It was incomprehensibly high-pitched, with an eerie sense of joy that not even the happiest person should feel. And it belonged to the killer that they were trying to escape from.

The decision to run wasn’t conscious. He was standing there, frozen, and then he was sprinting across the first floor away from everyone else. People were following behind him, but he didn’t bother to look over his shoulder to see who they were. There were more shots fired, hurting his head with their loud, piercing tone. Jake screamed at them, “ _Run_! Get out of here!” Virgil didn’t know half of what was happening, only three facts. One, he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. Two, there was a serial killer behind him. Three, he needed to run faster than his legs allowed him to. The floor was blurred under his feet and his breath came into his body and then left before he could actually get air. _Run!_ Jake’s voice echoed in his mind.

His gaze became fixated on a single point in front of him. The woman’s bathroom was just ahead; if they could get inside, maybe they could block the door with something and keep the murderer out. _What if they just puppy-guard us? We’ll be trapped inside, and surely they’ll break in before the police get here! All they need is a solid enough object to smash through the door…_ But it was their only chance at the moment. Screams echoed throughout the gallery from the stairs, followed by more laughing. They needed to go faster.

Shoving the door open, Virgil crashed into the woman’s bathroom at top-tier speed. He ran right into the first stall and tumbled backwards into Cora. They landed on the floor, stunned for a moment, while Margaret rushed in. She was carrying Dante in her arms. The old lady slammed the door shut, set Dante down, and grabbed a nearby broom, sticking it through the open bar that was the handle. Cora and Virgil were steady enough now to press their bodies against it in hopes to keep their pursuer back.

Someone smashed against the door. Virgil was almost flung off, but managed to stay standing. _Thump! Thump! Thump!_ Every few moments the killer rammed against the one thing keeping the group safe. A thousand thoughts were going through Virgil’s head, but only one of them could be made out. _I’m going to die._ He was going to be murdered and mutilated; his body splattered everywhere like Gary’s and his father’s. Or maybe he’d be taken somewhere first, tied up, and the murderer would torture him. Do things to him. Just like then. He could feel Cora and Margaret next to him, and suddenly he had to _get out of there_. Panic made him leap from the door and disappear into the farthest stall. Cora called out to him, but he didn’t respond. He locked the stall door and slid into the corner, unable to scream because he couldn’t breathe.

Then the room went mostly silent- all but a quiet chuckle which came from outside disturbed the quiet. Virgil froze, his heart nearly stopping. _No. No. No._ That chuckle… it couldn’t be. How was it possible? There was no way it could be _him_. With a rush of fright, he realized the edges of his vision were darkening from lack of oxygen. He desperately sucked in air, holding it in for seven seconds, and then exhaling slowly. _Stay calm, I need to stay calm._ But how could he? Everything was falling apart. All of his worst fears were coming true. Virgil pulled his hood over his head, tightening the strings so nobody could see his face.

There was no way he was coming out of this alive.

By the door Cora whispered, “Are they gone? I think they’re gone.” The stillness went on, and after a couple of minutes there was a sigh of relief. “Alright, we’ll stay here for a bit and get our bearings back. Is everyone okay?” When Margaret and Dante murmured yes, there were a few footsteps and then a knock on Virgil’s stall. “Hey, you almost got us killed! Tell me you’re feeling better and it was worth it.”

No response came from his mouth. He could see Cora’s black shoes through the gap between the floor to the simple door. They turned and walked away after a long ten seconds. _Thank goodness._ Virgil needed nothing more than to be alone for the end of time. It was the only way he wasn’t going to die of a panic attack.

Dante suddenly slid under the plastic barrier and faced Virgil. The boy looked somewhat confused and thoughtful. He sat down in front of Virgil, staring at the floor tiles for a few moments before speaking. “Why did you come here if you’re afraid of people? If I were scared, I would just stay home all the time, like I stay in my bed when the man shows up in my room.”

 _The man?_ Virgil’s current terror faded a bit, replaced by confusion. “What man?”

“Well,” Dante met his eyes, “When I’m alone, sometimes he’ll appear. He usually stands in a corner and points a gun at me. After I told my mom about it, she beat me and told me I was lying. But I finally got her to believe me. So, one night she hid in my closet with her own gun. And when the man showed up, I yelled that he was there. When she came out, she said there was no man and that I was a bad kid. She tried to shoot me.” The six-year-old looked away. “My abuela was at home, and she heard the yelling. She broke open the door, took the gun, and called the police. Later, when I told her what happened, she took me to a doctor and they said that I have- Schiz… something. I see things that aren’t real.” He messed with his coat zipper. “I thought this was like that at first. But my abuela told me it wasn’t.”

 _He… he has Schizophrenia._ Virgil became almost numb. _And his mom abused him… He’s not visiting his grandmother, he lives with her._ Something inside him clicked on. He leaned over to the boy and hugged him, holding him close. Nothing was going to harm Dante ever again, not under Virgil’s watch. If it meant sacrificing his own life, so be it.

“I won’t let them kill you,” he murmured. “You’re not going to die.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback!

A long time before Virgil went to the art gallery, before he lived with the unbearable fear of other people, he was a somewhat friendly person. Out of the high school class, he was the fourteen-year-old emo who hid his anxiety. People liked his dry humor and quick wits, although he only had two real friends that he kept day-to-day contact with. These two people were his best friend Davi White and his dad. On the Friday that everything changed, Virgil was hanging out at the arcade with Davi.

They were taking turns playing _Pac-Man_ near the front of the store. This was the game they always played, never any other ones. Most of the others were first-person shooters, and neither of them liked that kind of game. _Pac-Man_ was easy enough, although it presented a fun challenge on the harder levels. Currently, Virgil was narrowing his eyes at the screen, trying to find a way to bypass an enemy. Davi stood right next him, clinging onto his shoulder tensely. They were both focused on the game, the world around them faded to background noise.

“Of course,” Virgil suddenly threw his hands up in the air as the game over tune played. Davi laughed, patting his arm. “Alright, my turn. You can try again after me. See, if you had turned right there you could’ve dodged him. Watch, I’m gonna cream this level!” He shoved Virgil aside gently and took control. Virgil put his hands in the pockets of his purple-and-black jacket. His father had given it to him for his birthday last year, and although it was a bit too big for him, he’d grow into it. It had patches and white thread sewn into it to make it look more raggedy; it was perfectly his style. He was always wearing it, as it was very cozy.

Davi lost, obviously, and they decided to leave. Virgil was smiling, happy with the day. School hadn’t been that bad, he and Davi had done some fun activities, and now he was going to head back home where there would be pizza waiting. His dad made the best homemade pizza, and he’d promised to make some that night. His mouth was watering just thinking about it. As they exited the arcade, Virgil glanced over at his friend. “Hey, um, do you wanna come over to my place? Dad’s making pizza.”

He looked tempted. Humming for a moment in thought, he shook his head. “Nah, sorry. I’d have to go home, get my stuff, and come back, and by the time I get there we wouldn’t have much time to play games. Tomorrow though, maybe? You’ll have leftovers, right?”

“Maybe,” Virgil's smile turned into a grin. “I won’t be surprised if we don’t. Dad really likes his own pizza, and I do to. I’ll try to save you some, though, since apparently I have to bribe you with it to come over.” When Davi faked astonishment, he laughed. “Don’t pretend that’s not why you’re friends with me. You deal with me for the food, and I know it.”

Rolling his eyes, Davi started walking away. “Yeah, yeah, you know me too well. Totally don’t think you’re a cool gay dude that has the best sense of humor into the entire school.” When Virgil tried to object to his accusation of him being gay, he simply plugged her ears. Virgil sighed as Davi disappeared around a building, leaving him alone out in the darkening city. His house was only a few blocks away from the arcade, luckily, so he wouldn’t have to wait long before dinner. Going the opposite direction from Davi, he started heading across the streets of Gainesville.

It was becoming dark quite quickly. Virgil didn’t mind; nobody was out and about this late, and he had earbuds in. Music played softly in his ears and he stared at the cracks in the cement as he passed over them. It was a good day, that was for sure. He could just imagine the delicious crust and cheese, tomato sauce and olives waiting for him, and his dad excited to hear about his day. Virgil’s dad was the best dad in the entire world. After Virgil’s mom had died, he’d taken on the responsibility of raising Virgil. They did so many things together; they’d shared so many amazing experiences. He’d even taken his son to New York City when he was ten, and Virgil had wanted to live there ever since. There were so many things he could _draw_ there! And maybe his dad would come with him.

A black van skidded down the road, and Virgil quickly moved away from the edge of the sidewalk in case it came too close. You could never be too careful about things. But to his surprise, the van parked right next to him, and before he could even blink two men in black had jumped out from the back and were heading straight for him. Virgil’s eyes widened and he took off running, the alarm bells in his head ringing loudly. This obviously was something very, very bad. _I have to get out of here!_ Unfortunately for him, one of the men was faster than he was and grabbed his arm. Fear made him scream out. “ _Help_! _Somebody help_ -!” Virgil’s mouth was covered by a large hand. His arm was still being gripped, and he couldn’t break free. It was like an iron shackle. Kicking at the man’s foot, he tried to escape to no avail. He was dragged to the van and thrown into the back, and then they were off. “W-What’s going on?!” Virgil yelled, tears filling his eyes. He scrambled away from them, trembling with fright.

The two of them looked quite different from each other. The one who’d grabbed him was quite tall with a ski mask hiding everything but his sharp eyes and mouth, while the other one was a good foot shorter. He wasn’t wearing anything to hide his face; surprisingly, he looked to be around Virgil’s age. Curly brown hair adorned his head, the front bangs dyed silver, and it looked as if he was trying to grow a mustache. This teen sauntered over to Virgil, grinning wide. “We’re just going to have some fun! I predict some unpredictable shenanigans, heehee! I do love a bit of randomness. Like this!” He plopped a kiss on Virgil’s nose, who recoiled in disgust and rubbed it off. This only made the teen laugh- a bone-chilling, screech-like sound that made a shiver go down Virgil’s spine.

Everything about this was too horrible and scary for Virgil to comprehend exactly. They were giving him this hungry look that made him want to scream, to hide. With the knowledge of what things like this usually led to, he was afraid for his survival. And if not for that, for the mental stability he would have afterwards. _I have to escape!_ How could he, though? By jumping out of a moving car? That wouldn’t work; he’d break some bones, they’d come back and get him, and he’d be even worse off than before. So, he would have to wait until they arrived at wherever they were heading. Being in the van made his skin crawl, and he could feel a panic attack start to come on. _Not now, not now, not now!_ His anxiety just _had_ to kick in at the worst moments. The older guy came over and slapped his face. Virgil brought a hand to his stinging cheek, wincing in pain as his captor snorted. “Nice face, I wonder if your ass feels just as soft.”

This comment made Virgil kick the man’s knee, causing him to collapse onto the thin carpet floor. The teen burst out into cries of amusement, leaning against the wall. Then he pulled a large knife out from his sleeve and leapt over to Virgil, pinning him to the ground with the blade to his neck. The assaulter smiled creepily at Virgil and patted his cheek, “Hmm, he’s right, your face _is_ soft! Too bad this isn’t going to be a murder case- or it might be, depending on how much fun we have. Oh wait, that’s against the rules. So, I won’t get to skin you alive. Ugh, I never get to have any _real_ fun.” Huffing in annoyance, his eyes flickered up and down Virgil excitedly. “It’s a shame that we have to wait a little longer before we start. I’ve always thought movement would make things a bit more… adventurous!”

Desperate to get away from the insane kid, Virgil tried to push him away. The teen stood up without much resistance and sat down a foot or two away from him. The man got back up and glared at Virgil, peeking out the back windows as if he were looking for something. _Is he checking for cops? Did someone see what happened?_ Hope soared for a moment in Virgil's heart, but was crushed when the man turned away without a reaction. The reality of what was going on was starting to sink in, and he hugged his knees up to his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his breathing became exaggerated, failing to get more air in. This was really happening to him. He had been kidnapped, and from what the two had said he was going to be… _I won’t let them get near me! I’ll escape, I have to!_ But what could he possibly do? He’d have no idea where to go, where was safe, or who to trust.

Anyone could kidnap Virgil and do things to him.

Anyone could be like these men.

The van halted and the engine went quiet. With a giggle, the teen grabbed Virgil and pulled him out the back. They were at some abandoned house- there was a sign out front that said it was for sale. But the four of them- as they were now accompanied by the driver- went through the front door without having to unlock it. _Do they do this all the time? Is this normal for them? Kidnap young teens and rape them?_ The thought terrified him, because if they were confident enough to do this multiple times, then that meant he had no chance to escape. Virgil was still crying a bit, even though he hated doing it with them watching.

The interior of the house was normal; a living room, a small kitchen, and a hallway that led to the bedrooms. This is where they went- down the hallway and into the master bedroom. There was a bathroom off to the side, with a large queen-sized bed against the wall. _I can’t believe this is happening._ In a moment of pure panic, Virgil bit the teen’s arm and ripped away from him, dashing towards the door and to his freedom. Unfortunately, the driver clenched a hand around his neck, choking him a bit and effectively stopping him. There was only one thought that Virgil could focus on. _I have to run!_ But there were no options available. No way to escape, no way to get free.

A finger brushed at his eye, and he slapped the hand away. It was the silver-haired teen, grinning like a maniac. “Oh, don’t cry, hot stuff! I’ll make sure you enjoy this, heehee!” Dragging him to the bed, the teen pushed Virgil into the mattress and tapped his nose. The other two went into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

***

When Virgil awoke, he was in his own bed. The room was completely dark- not that it usually wasn’t- and the blinds were closed. Slowly, he pulled back the covers and started to get up, only to cry out in pain. He collapsed onto the floor, his whole body screaming at him not to move. It was only then that he realized he wasn’t wearing anything- the clothes he last remembered having put on were folded on the floor. _What…?_ The events of the night before then crashed back into his head, and he gasped.

That teen- and the other two- had committed horrible acts upon him. For what seemed eternity but what must have only been a few hours, they had done things that only a future lover should do- a very far future one. Virgil had passed out eventually, and now he was back in his own room. _How did I get here? Did they leave me on the street and someone found me? Did Dad come looking for me?_ The base of his skull at the back of his neck was throbbing, and when he brushed a finger over it he found small stitches under his hairline. Nothing about any of this made sense. _I have to talk to Dad about all this._

After putting on another outfit and zipping up his special jacket, Virgil slowly made his way out to the front room. The house was completely dark and he almost bumped into the couch. What he did do was trip over something on the floor. Face-planting on the ground, Virgil managed to get back onto his feet. _Where’s the stupid light switch? I can’t see anything! What did I just trip over?_ Finally finding the small panel on the wall, he pushed the switch up and the lights turned on.

Every single cell in his brain regretted doing so, and he screamed.

There was blood everywhere, coating the furniture, covering the carpet. What he had tripped over was a mutilated body, their skin torn off and draped on the kitchen counter. Virgil didn’t know who they were; they were unrecognizable, even if he did know them. One of their legs was across the entire room, by the door. Tears welled up in Virgil’s eyes as he stumbled over to the body, his chest constricting in horror. Who else could it be besides his father? “Dad?” he whimpered, not daring to touch the person. They didn’t respond, just simply laid there with their eyes shut. _No. It can’t be him. No, no, no._ He looked around for any signs that it was or wasn’t.

His father’s glasses were a couple feet away, shattered and snapped in half.

Virgil stayed seated beside who he now knew for sure was his dad. This person, the former body of one of the two most beloved people in his life, this thing that was still leaking blood onto the carpet- it was his dad. His dad had been murdered in the worst way possible. Had he been alive when he was skinned? Did he feel every bit of pain that surely would’ve driven anyone insane? There was no doubt in Virgil’s mind; the same people who had kidnapped him had done this. They’d somehow known where he lived and brought him here. Killing his father had been a bonus, or maybe just another cruel part of the plan to make him suffer.

 _I need to call 911…_ Virgil thought numbly to himself. Was this some horrible nightmare that he was somehow sleeping through? Usually he could wake himself up from bad dreams. Maybe he’d gone into a coma and he just had to deal with the problems in this dream until he woke up? Something like this couldn’t happen in real life. There was no way that this could be happening to him. _But if it is…_ He stood up and went back to his room, finding his phone resting on his bureau. His kidnappers had been kind enough to leave it there with him. Pressing the numbers he had always hoped he never would have to touch, there were three rings before someone picked up. “What’s your emergency?”

***

Years passed, and Virgil stayed with social services. Not a single person even looked into adopting someone like him. Who wanted a kid who’d been raped, who’d seen things no young teen should see, and who did not trust anyone? He was scared of everyone and he did not let anyone get close to him physically or psychologically. All the people in the world could be someone out to get him. They could see him as an easy target.

After that day, Virgil never saw Davi again. It’s not like Virgil would’ve even wanted to see him; Davi had abandoned him in the dark streets, refusing to accompany him home. Perhaps he had been in on the plan and left Virgil on purpose, knowing that they wouldn’t take him if he was there? Anything was possible in a world where your life ended in a single night, where you could lose absolutely everything that you held close to your heart.

If Virgil’s own race was going to betray him, then he didn’t need it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so they continue across the second floor, but a choice must be made.

The four of them- Cora, Margaret, Dante, and Virgil- waited in the woman’s restroom for about ten minutes. It was deathly quiet, with only the hushed sounds of Margaret’s and Cora’s whispering. Virgil let go of Dante after a couple of minutes, feeling scared by the fact that he _wasn’t_ scared. How was it possible that he wasn’t frightened of Dante? He was scared of everyone- Margaret, Cora, Jake, all of them terrified him. _But… they’re all grown up._ This thought surprised him. _I mean… children can’t really do anything to me. They’re not old enough to even understand what the word ‘rape’ means. There’s no way Dante could do anything bad to me, while even a younger teenager could._ He flinched, remembering that insane kid- that teen who had such a chilling laugh.

The same laugh that he’d heard through the restroom door not less than fifteen minutes before.

Perhaps Virgil had just imagined it? It had been eight years since that fateful day. How could he possibly compare that chuckle to the one he’d heard so long ago? It just wasn’t possible. But he’d felt the same feeling when he heard the second one. That serial killer had the exact tone that teen had. The police had never caught the culprits of the case, after all. What if they were the same person? _How could that possibly happen? It’s too big of a coincidence. There’s no way I could run into the same demented person twice- unless a God somehow exists and I sinned really, really badly. I doubt it, though. No, there’s no way. It can’t be him._

There was a knock on the door to the stall, and he heard Cora’s voice. “You two ready to leave? We need to get out of here before they come back. I doubt we’ll be able to keep the door shut again, and they’re probably already on their way back to get us.”

Pushing up onto his feet, Virgil took Dante’s hand and pulled him up. “Yeah, we’re ready. Right, Dante?” When the little boy nodded, Virgil unlocked the stall door and exited. Margaret was standing against the door, gripping the door handle. She smiled slightly upon seeing Dante and Virgil holding hands. “Have you calmed down enough to be able to run if necessary?” she asked the older of the two.

“Yeah,” Virgil took in a deep breath. _I just have to not think about what happened._

The old lady looked around at everyone before slowly pulling open the door, narrowing her eyes at the outdoors. When she slipped out silently, the other three quickly followed just behind. The art gallery was completely empty; there was not a single person in sight. Cora started to jog ahead to the stairs, which alarmed Virgil, but he was too worried to call out to them. Turning around the corner that was just next to the stairs, he saw that Cora was standing on the first step down, carefully looking onto the second floor. They glanced up and shrugged, saying quietly, “There’s nobody around here. Weird, isn’t it? Do you think they went to look for the others?”

 _That wouldn’t be much of a surprise…_ Virgil, Margaret, and Dante joined Cora at the top of the flight, staring down at the next part of their journey. _So much has already happened, and yet we haven’t even made it to the second floor. How are we going to survive this?_ It seemed almost impossible by now. This killer could easier find them and turn them into mincemeat like they obviously had with Patrick’s group. _Wait a second… where did Patrick’s body go? Where did Jake go? They’re both gone- did the murderer take them somewhere?_ It was an odd thought, but certainly not out of the question.

“Let’s go,” Dante whispered to the three adults. They silently began their descent.

_Well, I guess we know where Jake went…_

They all stood, horrified, at the sight before them. The paintings that had hung on the wall in front of the staircase had been tossed aside, undamaged. They had been replaced by Jake Blackwell’s body, crucified at their height, the bottom of his shoes just brushing the ground. Nails pierced through the palms of his hands, as well as under his chin to keep him upright. This image made Virgil almost sick. _How… how are those nails so long…?_ There was a pool of dried blood underneath the former security guard, and his hands were sticky with the red substance. His eyes were still open, but glazed over with white. Virgil reached down and covered Dante’s eyes so the boy wouldn’t have to see Jake. _No child should see something like this._ Patrick had been laid against a nearby wall as if he were just sitting down, his head placed perfectly in his own lap.

They were dealing with a real serial killer- not some small-time robber who committed murder just to escape with some paintings. That had been evident from the start. But this- this crucifixion- this was something else. The murderer was a full-blown maniac. They obviously slaughtered just for the fun of it; Virgil could tell just by the way they had laughed. And if he was correct in his assumptions, this person had done other terrible things too. So, there was only one possible outcome that could happen with such an experienced mentally-disturbed man.

They were all going to die- all together or one by one. It was inevitable, just a fact of life. And yet there was something growing inside of Virgil, a feeling of… fury? Fury, rage, anger, any word to describe that emotion anyone felt when something that was wrong came to pass. The injustice of this situation- this wasn’t _fair_. Dante didn’t deserve this. Dante deserved a happy childhood, free of pain and worries, not the one he’d gotten. An abusive mother, schizophrenia, all of _this_ \- none of it was anything a kid should have to deal with. It made Virgil so _mad_. His fist clenched subconsciously and he gritted his teeth. _No. I’m not going to let him get killed._ Not a single thing was going to get even _near_ Dante if Virgil had anything to say about it. It didn’t matter if it meant blocking the way between that serial killer and the child. It didn’t matter if it meant letting himself get cut into little tiny shreds. Nothing was going to hurt Dante.

Cora approached the wall and tried to pry away the nails from Jake’s body, grunting with the effort. Unsuccessful, they sighed and beckoned to the others. “We need to move. Staying in one place just makes us sitting ducks.” They began to lead the way across the second floor. Virgil stayed at the back of the foursome, keeping a keen eye out for that murderous person. _If it really is that teen, then we have some unfinished business to attend to._ Fear had been shoved to the back of his thought process. Blind rage fueled him now. It was one thing to threaten the lives of full-grown, capable adults, but another to risk the life of a six-year-old. _Who does he think he is? Why does he enjoy doing this to average people? Why does he think everything is just a game that he can change the rules of?_ He had to remind himself that some people were just like that, and it was a real, every day issue. It was hard to garner sympathy, though, being a past victim of the murderer. _At some point, mentally disturbed people can choose to run with the idea of being insane, and this guy certainly has._

The second floor was almost exactly the same as the first and third, but Virgil hadn’t seen it before, so he was interested in what little he could see. They were moving about very quickly, but he still managed to glimpse quite a few incredible paintings. It seemed they were in the self-portrait section, as he spotted many different faces lining the walls. Some looked realistic, others took a more modern approach, but all were fascinating to his eyes. _I’ve definitely found the inspiration I was hoping to find during my time here._ It was strange to think that even in the face of all this tragedy, Virgil could still find it in himself to admire the art surrounding them. He doubted any of the others felt the same way, but that was probably because none of them were artists in the same sense that he was.

It seemed quite strange that someone would come to an art exhibit to do a heinous crime like this. Was the killer an artist who thought the bodies of those they slaughtered were actually masterpieces? It was a gruesome idea, but considering the crucifixion… _This guy really is insane._ It was hard to imagine ever getting to the point where you did something like this. _How did he descend so far into madness?_ What were his real motives? Was there a real reason for any of this? That was the scariest thing for Virgil- the thought that there was nothing behind this. It would make sense if it was part of a grand scheme, but if it was just meaningless? Dante would then be in danger for no actual motive. It would all have been up to chance, and the boy had been put into this scenario out of pure luck of the draw when anyone else in the world was more deserving of it.

 _Why do I care about Dante so much?_ Virgil asked himself for what seemed the millionth time. As they hurried along through the building, he finally came to conclusion that made a little sense, if that was possible. _Dante is like me. Something terrible happened to him, and he suffers from voices/thoughts that he can’t control. He’s just a kid, like I was. Just a kid who was thrown under the bus for no apparent cause. People mistreated us, people almost_ killed _us- and we both made it out, even if we’re both somewhat damaged._

It was almost as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was someone like him in the world. Yes, Dante wasn’t afraid of mankind and he hadn’t been raped, but his past mirrored Virgil’s in the basics. And they were both here, right now, facing something so scary that a simple laugh from it could make someone freak out. A serial killer, a rapist, a maniac- all words to describe the threat they faced. _He’s not going to win this time._ Virgil suddenly became aware of how tightly he was clutching the knife in his pocket. He quickly shook his thoughts away, looking around to bring himself back to the present moment. _I can’t protect Dante if I’m not paying attention._ It was strange to think that he was willing to sacrifice himself for another human being after being so scared of his race for so long.

They all froze suddenly, shocked into a frightened state as they all suddenly heard the faint screams of people up ahead. _Oh no._ Cora ducked behind a nearby wall, dragging Margaret with her, and Virgil did the same with Dante. For a moment they were all silent before Cora asked, “What do we do?”

Margaret frowned a bit, peeking around the corner. “They are a few rooms ahead. We might be able to hide in a nearby bathroom until that murderer goes back upstairs to look for us.” The old lady hesitated before continuing. “If the killer already murdered the first group, then that means those people are the third one. We are the only ones left.” The way she spoke made a chill run down the back of Virgil’s neck. The looming knowledge that they were most likely going to die seemed an even greater burden than before. _Don’t give up hope. I have to believe we’re going to make it out, for Dante._

Cora shook their head. “The bathrooms are on the other side of the floor. There’s nowhere to hide. We either make a run for it or backtrack. If we backtrack, we can hide in the bathroom again. Problem is, they’ll come back and we’ll have to hold out until the police get here. It should only be another ten to fifteen minutes, but considering what this person has done, I don’t think we can make it that long.” They sighed and closed their eyes. “The only option is to run for it.”

Virgil nervously pulled at his jacket sleeves. “But he- they’ll see us. They’ll come after us. Do you think we can outrun them?” He knew the answer was probably no. With one person carrying Dante, they were going to be slowed down. Both the boy and the carrier would be killed. The other two adults exchanged glances, seemingly having come to the same conclusion. He quietly spoke, “Someone’s going to have to stay behind and distract them.”

Every one of them went silent. Margaret pulled Dante close into her arms, petting the top of his head lightly. _She can’t stay behind- she has Dante to look after._ Virgil and Cora met each other’s eyes, both looking quite determined. He stood up and looked away. “I’ll do it. I’m not- I don’t have much of a life anyway. It won’t hurt anyone if I’m gone. So, I’ll run over them and get his attention. I’m going to head back upstairs, so I need you guys to hide somewhere where we won’t run into you. Once you hear us go up to the third floor, you run until you get to the panic room. Don’t stop for anything- got it?”

Before he could do anything, though, Cora took off running towards the fight. Virgil tried to grab them, but he was too late. They were sprinting, their thick boots making _thump-thump_ sounds. Everything in Virgil’s body screamed at him to go after them, to make them come back. _No, stop! You don’t deserve this!_ But if he called out to them, the killer would be aware of their position. _They’re sacrificing themself- it should’ve been me. They have a happy life that they shouldn’t have to give up. This isn’t fair!_ He felt himself being dragged over to a different wall, out of sight. _Don’t do it. Cora, please come back. Let me die instead._ They all heard the chilling, screeching laughter of the murderer. Running footsteps went clunking up the stairs, giggling following in their wake. _Now’s our chance._ The three of them started heading in the opposite direction.

This whole building was starting to make Virgil want to scream. The paintings looked all the same, one after the other, giving him the feeling that he had to get out of there. The white walls, the beige tile floor, the golden frames- it was making him go stir crazy. Everything around them reminded him of the tragic reality that people were dying. That Cora was going to die. One of the only two people he’d bonded with since he was fourteen years of age. Just as soon as he had met them, they had been ripped away. They were going to be slaughtered just like everyone else.

The three left passed by the bodies of the third group. There was blood and flesh and organs strewn across the entire room. Virgil accidentally kicked the head of Varina as he was running, sending it rolling over to the body which it belonged too. Not but an hour earlier she had been staring out a bus window, ignoring her mother. _I wonder if she expected any of this._ Who could have, though? There was no way that anyone could have seen the terrible events that were to be coming. Even Virgil hadn’t known how dangerous it could possibly be. Sure, being abducted by those two men was an easy thing to spot. But this? No, this was a one-time thing. This wasn’t something that happened on a regular basis.

The nearly completely diminished group reached the stairs to the first floor. _We’re going to have to look for the panic room fast._ Margaret, who was holding Dante in her arms, nodded to him. They had to get there; otherwise, they were going to die.

Taking a deep breath, Virgil started down into the final part of their escape.


	7. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just Virgil, Dante, and Margaret now- but they're so, so close to getting to the panic room!

Taking the steps two at a time, Virgil nearly tripped in multiple instances but managed to make it all the way down without breaking any bones. Margaret, still carrying Dante, was just behind them, and they both halted when they reached the bottom. The elevator was on the wall across them, the doors stuck open because of the body that lay across the entryway.

The whole room was a battlefield. _So, the others almost made it before he caught them._ It was apparent that they had taken the elevator instead of the long way by stairs, if the person keeping the doors open was any clue. By now, the sight of dead people thrown about a room was normal, but realizing that only made Virgil more sick. _This should not be something anyone is used to seeing. Poor Dante…_ The blood, the limbs, the glazed-over eyes- it was all so familiar. He didn’t feel the need to look at it and feel the horror. Nothing was going to change from what he’d seen before. Not to mention that they were running for their dear lives.

Margaret glanced around wildly, the bun atop her head quavering from the movement. “I do not remember Jake saying where the panic room is. Where should we go first?”

“Anywhere,” Virgil hissed, taking off to the right. With his two companions just behind, he ran alongside the walls, desperately looking for any doors. _If only I hadn’t gone up to the third floor instead of looking around here! Damn it, I would’ve seen where that door is!_ His past life choices were certainly coming back to bite him. _If only I had just focused on my art instead of looking at my phone!_ Then he wouldn’t have even gone to the art gallery, and he would’ve not had to deal with any of this.

 _But I wouldn’t have met Dante then, and he would most likely have died._ Meeting Dante, even in a situation like this, had been one of the best things to ever happen to Virgil. Dante was someone Virgil could relate to, could understand, and could be _open_ with. They both shared similar experiences being the victims of the cruelty the world had to offer. Maybe together they would be able to face it. _If we even make it out of this alive._ Perhaps Virgil could even become friends with Margaret. She seemed like a very, very brave and powerful grandmother who would do anything for Dante. Someone like that was someone Virgil could respect.

There was the door. The steel face of the panic room was right in front of them. _We’re going to make it out alive! Just have to reach there-_

The sound of footsteps clambering down stairs made them halt abruptly. They had looped back to the elevator, and if they took another step they would be visible. The door was just twenty feet away. _He would get to us before we got it open, though. We’ll have to wait until he leaves._ Cheerful humming began to come near them, and they carefully backtracked. They were being pushed back to the bodies as the killer circled around. _Where can we hide?_ Now they stood in an open area with no nearby doorways.

Before he knew what was happening, Virgil was dragged behind the stairs. Margaret, Virgil, and Dante crouched there and waited for the killer to show up. They were in a small little space between a wall and the stairs, a fire extinguisher pinned to the wall with dust covering it. Virgil was slightly worried by the fact that they had no way of actually seeing the murderer, only having their ears to identify where he was. The humming returned to the main room and stopped somewhere by the elevator as a phone rang out. It quickly went silent as the killer spoke, “Hello there~!”

 _Someone’s calling him? An accomplice? Or maybe someone who doesn’t even know what he’s doing?_ It didn’t really matter to Virgil as long as the three of them survived- the police could figure out the specifics of this mass murder on their own. There was a moment of silence before the killer giggled a bit. “Nope, I still have three to find! One of them is our dear little friend.” More quiet. “Yep, first floor. I don’t think they’ve made it to their special room yet, so they must be around here somewhere. Ooh, I hope I catch them! I could have a little more fun then.”

This terrified Virgil, his mind slowly numbing. _Our dear little friend…_ Was he talking about Dante? He took Dante’s hand with his own. The murderer hummed a bit in agreement to something and replied a few moments later. “Ugh! You never let me have any _real_ fun! I was going to have the best time with the kid. Fine, I’ll just grab him and go. What about the third one?”

Margaret stiffened beside them, her eyes narrowing in fury. They were definitely talking about Dante. Were they going to kidnap him? But for what reasons, and how? The killer didn’t know where they were, and he was just a six-year-old! What importance could he possibly have? _What does he mean by ‘third one’? He only mentioned one person. And why would he say ‘our dear little friend’? Do they know him?_ The killer huffed in an annoyed tone, “Okay, okay, I got it! I can handle it. See you later!”

This was all crazy. None of this made any _sense_. What exactly was going on? Virgil had wanted there to be a reason for all of this, but now he regretted his wish. For some underlying intentions, the killer and whoever he was working for wanted to take Dante. _How do they know him?_ Questions swirled around in Virgil’s head, making him even more confused than before. He then realized that Margaret was no longer next to him. Whipping his head around, he spotted her grabbing the fire extinguisher off the way. _Oh no, no, no! Margaret, no!_ She disappeared beyond their view, gripping the heaving object tightly. With a feeling of dread, Virgil knew that their last chance was to run- _now_. Margaret was not going to make it; she had no chance against that serial killer. But while the killer was busy dealing with her, Virgil and Dante could most likely make it into the panic room before he could catch them. So, Virgil grabbed the boy’s hand and nearly flew out of their hiding spot, heading straight for the steel door.

 _Crunch!_ Something that sounded disturbingly like a skull getting smashed sounded from behind them, followed by a maniacal, screeching laugh. The two remaining survivors had almost made it to their goal, and Virgil crashed against the door, unable to halt in time. His whole left side screamed at him and was stunned for a moment. “There you are!” a voice said from the stairs. “Don’t leave now- we have so much fun to attend to!”

 _Move! Focus! **Open the damn door!**_ He grasped the handle and began pulling the door open, but it was so heavy. _Open it, get it open! Open!_ The killer was running towards them. Virgil had to get inside or else he was going to die. Finally, the door cracked enough to be able to squeeze through. He grabbed Dante’s hand and dove through. Then he pulled the door shut with all of his might, fumbling with the locks until all five of them were secured.

Someone screamed from outside.

In Virgil’s hand was one of Dante’s red mittens.

The next few moments felt unreal. He slowly looked around the room, his brain starting to shut off. The small steel-framed room had cupboards hanging on the walls, probably filled with food. Boxes were stacked across the floor. There were packages of bottled water in a corner. The most important thing was missing. The one thing that Virgil needed, the one thing that he had sworn to protect.

Dante was not there with him.

 _No. No, no, no, he has to be in here. That scream wasn’t his._ Yet, he couldn’t deny it; he hadn’t pulled Dante in with him. Virgil desperately undid the locks, not even thinking about what he was doing. _I have to save Dante._ There was no question about it. He already had decided that sacrificing himself for the boy was something he would do, and now was time to follow through on that promise. But as he made a move for the handle, a voice screamed in his head. _Don’t do it! You’ll die! The killer probably already dragged him away! Don’t go out there!_ He let out a cry of pain, the words searing through his brain like a knife. Those thoughts… they weren’t his. But his body was listening to them. He slumped down against the door even as he tried to do the opposite. The voice was speaking in a softer tone now. _Giving up your life for that boy will do nothing. His life is already ruined. He would just end up in the system, and you know that the system isn’t the best place for a teenager to be, let alone a six-year-old. Let him go. It’s not time to play hero._

The thoughts speaking in Virgil’s head had a strange feeling that came with them. It was somewhat familiar. It felt like someone was inserting them into his internal thought process, like they didn’t belong there. _They… they sound like the ones that brought me here._ That restlessness he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t draw for some reason- what was that about? None of this made any sense. Virgil had only come to the art exhibit because he couldn’t stop thinking about it. _Why? What was so different about this particular art exhibit that I just had to go?_ And why was his body refusing to move, refusing to get up and go out?

Earlier he had made a connection between the killer’s voice and that teen’s, the one who had done those terrible things to him long ago. What if they really were the same person? There was no way that a coincidence like that could happen. All of those things in the past had happened in Gainesville, Florida, not Brooklyn. So, if it wasn’t a coincidence, that meant it had been planned. Someone had somehow foreseen Virgil having irrepressible thoughts about the art exhibit. But why? What was so important about Virgil?

_Our dear little friend._

With a cold sense of dread, Virgil began to think that this wasn’t about Dante. Dante had just happened to get mixed up in it. For some reason, the two who had instigated this had decided Dante was suddenly important. There could only be one simple reason, because all the others didn’t make any sense.

Virgil had put Dante in danger by befriending him. Now Virgil wasn’t even going to go out there and save him, because he was too afraid for his own life. The penetrating thoughts would not leave him be, reassuring him that staying put was the best idea. It certainly wasn’t the most important thing to do. Dante’s life was more valuable than Virgil’s, and yet here they were. _If only we could trade places._ If the bad guys wanted Virgil, why not just take him instead of luring him? Wouldn’t that be much simpler?

Tears started to drip down his face, and he hugged himself close. Everything about this was so painful. So many people were dead, gone, removed from the world. They had families and friends, and those people would be affected, and then they would affect the world around them, until everyone on the entire planet felt the loss of the fourteen innocents who had been turned into mincemeat. The butterfly affect was a powerful thing. What did the killer and his boss hope to gain from this? Why was Virgil essential to their plans? He didn’t like the idea of being used like this.

A knock rang out three times on the steel door behind him. Someone yelled in a muffled voice, “This is the police! Anyone in there?” The hope that Virgil had expected to feel when this moment came did not appear. How could he experience hope when Dante probably had none? Numbly, he stood up and unfastened the five locks, pulling open the door. Two police officers were before him, one a man and the other a woman. The woman looked past Virgil and sighed. “You’re the only survivor?”

He shook his head. It took a moment before he could speak. “He- he took Dante.”

“Dante?” the man gazed at him sadly. “How about you come outside with us and tell us a bit more about what happened here- and about Dante. I’m Officer Kenny Armstrong, and this is Officer Calypso May. What’s your name?” He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

 _It’s fine, he’s a police officer. Police officers are okay. They’re okay._ “Virgil Sanders,” Virgil tried to speak clearly. “Where’s the killer? You got him, right? Dante’s safe?” Somehow, he knew what the answer was going to be. Because he had seen a lot of impossible things done today, and getting past a steel wall blocking the front door wouldn’t stop the killer.

The two officers exchanged glances. Calypso then glanced back at him. “We’re sorry to say, but the murderer managed to get through the building’s defenses and escape.”

***

Virgil was looked over for injuries and set free for the next couple of days, but the officers told him he was expected to come to the station as soon as remembering everything that happened wasn’t too traumatic. When he did go, they interviewed him about what the killer looked like, sounded like, and everything else. At this point, he was informed that they had still not found Dante, but they were trying their best. _Am I ever going to see him again?_

A week passed with no sign of either of the missing people. Virgil originally had called the station every few hours but was told off and reassured that they would contact him if there was any news. In the meantime, Virgil stress drew. He was flying through commissions, devoted to his craft like never before. It helped keep his mind off the terrible choice he had made. _I can’t believe I stayed in there. I could’ve saved Dante! He would be okay if it weren’t for me._

It was strange how nothing happened after the horror that was the art exhibit. Virgil had been expecting some ransom note by now. If this really was about him and not Dante, then he should have gotten one. _What if I was wrong? Maybe this really_ is _about Dante?_ On this particular morning, he was sitting on the counter in his kitchen eating a slice of cold pizza. His fingers were itching to draw, but the pizza was good enough to make him sit still.

The doorbell rang, startling him. _Nobody’s coming- unless it’s the police! Wouldn’t they have called first though?_ Quietly, Virgil finished off his food and slunk to the door, looking out through the peephole to check who it was. To his further confusion, the outdoors was void of anyone. _Was it some kids playing a prank?_ He opened the door, frowning. Nobody was around.

It was then that he saw the piece of paper resting on his doorstep. Picking it up, Virgil returned to his safe haven and plopped onto the couch. On the front of the small paper was a single word- _Virgil_. Flipping it over, he discovered more writing on the other side. _Silverbridge Rd. 24601, Gainesville Florida. November 1 st 2020\. If you wish to see your little friend, come to the given address on the provided date. –J. S._ The rest of the paper was blank. _J. S.?_ Virgil had seen those two initials somewhere before. Where had it been? _Wait a second… the corporation who owned the art gallery was called J. S. Inc.. Does that mean… the owner of the company set all of this up?_ This certainly muddled up everything that he thought he’d already known.

But if one thing was for sure, Virgil was going to get Dante back, no matter the cost.

~To be continued~

********************

_Keep reading in the next installment, Lies #2: Father._


End file.
